


Eight Maids a-Milking

by JulietsEmoPhase



Series: 12 Days of Shipmas [5]
Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies), Mission: Impossible - Rogue Nation (2015)
Genre: Christmas Eve, Drinking, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 06:18:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5446343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulietsEmoPhase/pseuds/JulietsEmoPhase
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benji is stuck in America on Christmas Eve due to terrible weather, but luckily so is Ethan. </p><p>No smut, post Rogue Nation, minor spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eight Maids a-Milking

**Author's Note:**

> So, in case you missed it on Tumblr, I am writing twelve stories in the run-up to Christmas, featuring my favourite ships from my favourite fandoms. 
> 
> I was originally going to do a different ship for this day, but then I re-watchedMission Impossible: Rouge Nation. This is the 5th film in the franchise, and I love all the others too, especially 3 and 4 largely due to Simon Pegg being adorable. 
> 
> But Rouge Nation? 
> 
> They really should have titled it “Ethan and Benji love each other SO much so you better not fuck with them because they will DESTROY you and the whole bloody world if you touch their precious cinnamon roll.” 
> 
> Their relationship is unbelievably awesome and has given me yet another OTP to fling myself into the trash over. If you haven’t watched it yet, I highly recommend it :-D 
> 
> Small spoilers for Rogue Nation, but not really. Picture set by me, though I don’t own the images. (Oh, and small note, I couldn’t find where the IMF HQ is based, so I just made it Washington DC. If that’s wrong I’m sorry :-P)

Eight Maids a-Milking

  

   Benji Dunn stared bleakly at his computer monitors, hoping one of them would start telling him something new.  But no matter how many times he refreshed the pages, or opened new windows, or hacked into the government’s meteorology department, the facts remained the same: the weather was verging on apocalyptic, and there was no way he was getting on a plane.

   “Bugger,” he said emphatically to himself. 

   For the past few days he had ensconced himself on one of IMF’s administration floors in order to wrap up some paperwork and hold out as long as possible, hoping the snow would ease and he could get his flight back to London.  In fact, by that afternoon he would have taken anything: Manchester, Southampton, bloody _Glasgow_ , but he’d finally had to admit defeat now that not a single aircraft was flying out of Washington.

   He was stuck.  On Christmas Eve.  By himself.

   He sighed and text his mum the bad news, knowing she’d be gutted that he wouldn’t be making it home.  Again.  Guilty and miserable at the prospect of going back to his sparse and lonely flat (which he hardly lived in most of the year, let alone bothered to put up any kind of Christmas decorations in) he pulled out his handset and loaded up an old game he’d not had a chance to play since being properly reinstated into the IMF.

   Being the only one left in the office, he turned up the volume and let the hail of gunfire and explosions drown out his thoughts.  It wasn’t just his mum who was disappointed he wouldn’t be able to make it home for Christmas day; it wasn’t often that things were this completely out of his hands.

   It seemed like this year had been nothing _but_ out of his hands though, and a little normalcy of home had been what had been keeping him going the last couple of months.  Between the IMF’s dissolving and that business with Lane (in London, ironically), Benji had been left reeling with a sense of being completely out of control of his own destiny.  Maybe that’s why he’d been so determined to catch the flight he’d booked, daring the weather to thwart him.

   If he’d thought about it, he could maybe have driven out of state, maybe down south where the weather was better so he could have got a flight, but it was too late for that now.  He’d half thought about trying to make it back to England for New Year’s Eve, but he couldn’t afford to be away from the office that long, he was lucky not to be out on a mission as it was.

   No, he had truly sabotaged his holiday by stupidly assuming that his flight would somehow miraculously still be allowed to fly, despite no others making it off the runway.  Yet again, events had totally screwed him, and he’d been left sitting on his hands like an idiot. 

   He grimaced as a lack of concentration caused his avatar to lose yet another life, and took the opportunity to turn the game’s sound down as it reloaded so he could blast out a bit of Beethoven over the top.  A good solid sonata generally helped lift him out of most sulks, but he figured this was probably a bit more serious than that. 

   He sighed loudly to the empty room, Ludwig throbbing against his ears.  He’d just have to embrace Christmas alone this year.  He could swing by the supermarket on his way home and pick up some food (and beers, more importantly) and spend the day watching DVDs.  It wouldn’t be so bad.  Maybe.

   “Benji?”

   He jumped out of his skin, sending his controller clattering across his desk as he clutched at his chest and spun his chair around to see who had snuck up on him.

  “Ethan?” he gasped, mildly relieved but mostly just mortified that he had been so easily scared.  Ethan was chuckling at him as he came over and leaned on his partition wall, which just made things infinitely worse.  “Bloody hell, I didn’t think anyone else was still here,” he breathed as he hastily turned down his music .  He hoped he wasn’t too red-faced; Ethan had a way of unsettling him more than anyone else.  “How’d you find me?”

   Ethan grinned and leaned over, his hair falling into his face as he looked down at Benji from his perch.  _“I’m a spy,”_ he said in a mock whisper.  “But shh, don’t tell anyone.”

   Benji looked sadly around the deserted office and exited from the game, leaving them in quietness.  “There’s no one left to tell,” he said morosely. 

   “Which begs the question,” Ethan said, coming around to rest his hip against the lip of Benji’s desk.  “What are you still doing here Agent Dunn?  Shouldn’t you be back in merry London by now?”

   He was awfully close, and Benji did his best not to _look_ like he was edging his chair away by fractions.  His palms were already damp though, and an uncomfortable lump was threatening to rise in his throat. 

   It was okay, he’d always justified to himself, to have a silly crush on your friend.  He’d always argued it was more a case of admiration anyway; he’d _admired_ how awesome and cool Ethan was.  But then he’d gone and gotten himself kidnapped and almost blown up, and Ethan had torn the world apart to get him back.

   Now, it was not just a silly crush.  Now, when things were still and quiet, mostly when he was lying in the dark, trying his best to sleep, Benji had to admit to himself the truth.  That he was pathetically, tragically in love with one of his best friends.

   “I should have been,” he said, affecting a smile as he replied to Ethan’s question.  “But apparently there’s a spot of snow.”

   Ethan laughed and nodded.  “I can’t lie,” he said sympathetically.  “It felt like trekking through Hoth on the streets earlier.”

   Benji blinked.  Had he just made a _Star Wars_ joke?  “Yeah, well,” he said, brushing over it, refusing to believe Ethan was quoting one of his favourite films on purpose.  “Nothing’s flying out, so here I am.  Hang on, what are _you_ doing here?” he added as an afterthought. 

   Ethan shrugged.  “Normally I’m dangling upside down over a WMD any given day of the week – I don’t tend to make plans for the holidays.”

   “Oh,” said Benji.  “Um, sorry.”  He suddenly felt quite awkward; he would have been lying if he said he’d never let his mind wander on occasion, imagining scenarios where he and his partner were forced together on a mission, just the two of them.  But this was frighteningly domestic and intimate, them both admitting they were alone on Christmas.  _Bollocks,_ he panicked internally.  What if Ethan did something stupid, like suggesting-

   “Don’t be sorry,” Ethan said with a shrug, his demeanour light and at ease.  “That’s why I came to find you.  Thought maybe you’d like saving from whatever RPG was kicking your ass.”

   “It wasn’t kicking my arse,” Benji cried, sitting up defensively and glancing at his game console, but Ethan just smirked at him, and Benji couldn’t help but laugh back.  “Okay, maybe it was, a little.  But,” he floundered.  “I’m fine, I don’t need looking after, honestly.”

   Ethan looked at his fingers in his lap, before smiling at him again.  This time it didn’t entirely reach his eyes.  “Well,” he said cheerfully.  “Maybe _I_ need a bit of looking after.  Keep an old spy company on Christmas Eve?”

   He was joking, obviously, but Benji had to bite his cheek when he wanted to retort that Ethan was most definitely _not_ old.  He was probably still fitter than Benji would ever be, and-

   Shit, he realised he’d left him hanging.  “Well, I mean,” he spluttered, trying his best not to make an utter pillock of himself.  “If that’s what _you_ want, I guess that’s okay?”

   Ethan grinned, genuinely this time, and punched his arm.  “Come on.  There’s a bar near my place that’s good at propping losers like us up on nights like this.”

   Benji was almost certain he was going to regret this immensely. 

 

xxx

 

   “These are _not_ chips,” argued Benji, waving one in front of Ethan’s face.

   “They are perfectly good French fries,” Ethan argued back, sipping on his beer and laughing. 

   Benji waved it again.  “French fries aren’t _chips_ though, chips should be fat, and covered in vinegar.” 

   Ethan arched an eyebrow and leaned in closer, making heat rush over Benji’s skin.  “You’re lucky I didn’t order you actual chips,” he said softly over the music from the bar.  They were surrounded by an impressive collection of shot glasses and beer bottles which the waitress seemed a bit reluctant to come over and collect, probably because the two agents were making the most out of a rare opportunity to actually let loose and not be on duty. 

   Well, Ethan was never not on duty.  Even through his drunken haze Benji could see how aware he was of the exits, and the movements of every person in the surprisingly rowdy sports bar.  It made him feel safe, which was probably why he was out-drinking Ethan a little too eagerly.  He hadn’t felt safe and at ease in a long time. 

   “Crisps are not chips, _chips_ are chips,” he insisted, grinning and pleased with himself for being brave enough to rib Ethan.  He felt they were slipping over a professional line after the amount of tequila they’d had, but now because of that tequila he was studiously not caring.  He’d stopped worrying about three drinks in how inappropriate his feelings for Ethan were, and just started enjoying himself.  

   Ethan looked at him slyly before knocking back another shot.  Just because he was letting Benji out-drink him (and was definitely _letting_ him Benji had realised, amused) didn’t mean he wasn’t putting in a good effort.  “Is that so?”

   “You Americans give weird names to everything,” he said, and poked out his tongue. 

   Ethan pushed another shot his way.  “Well, if we’re so awful, maybe you should head back off to the motherland?”

   Benji blew a raspberry.  “Tried that,” he said, only slightly melancholy now.  “But you guys wouldn’t let me leave.”

   “You’re too good to let leave,” Ethan said wickedly, chinking his bottle against Benji’s.  “Sorry,” he added, not sounding sorry at all.

   Benji blinked and cleared his throat.  It had almost sounded like Ethan was flirting with him, but that couldn’t be right?  He decided to ignore it.  “Ahh,” he said, sitting back and looking around at the throng of people making merry in the bar with them.  Gaggles of friends and couples holding hands; there were a lot of people apparently who wanted to be out on Christmas Eve rather than cosy and at home with their loved ones.  Or maybe their loved ones were here with them?  He glanced at Ethan.  “It’s not so bad,” he said, eating another chip, despite them being too crunchy for his liking. 

   Ethan pretended to be affronted.  “Gee, thanks,” he said with a wink, and Ethan knocked their knees together. 

   “Oh shut up, you know what I mean,” he said, rolling his eyes.  “I was miserable earlier, but now I’m having a good time, thanks to you Ethan – is that what you wanted to hear?”

   “Much better,” Ethan said approvingly, a glint in his eye that made Benji swallow his beer down a little too quickly.  He thought maybe he imagined it though as they ordered more drinks and started reminiscing about when they were younger – all in general terms of course.  They never specifically said the name of their schools, and any teachers or students mentioned were almost certainly given pseudonyms.  But still, it was the closest Benji had ever come to knowing anything about Ethan’s childhood. 

   “Of course you were a track star,” he said, shaking his head good naturedly as he fished out the last few chips from the bowl in front of them.  One of the waitresses finally came over and cleared up their glasses, but Ethan was quick to catch her to order another couple rounds of drinks for them.

   “And the swim team,” he said cockily.  “Anything where I could go fast.”  Benji shook his head again affectionately, imagining a mini Ethan, tearing ahead of the other poor students who didn’t stand a chance against the boy destined to become an international agent.  “What about you Dunn?” he asked, breaking Benji from his reverie.  “I suppose you were hidden away in the IT lab where the sun never shone.”

   “Actually,” Benji said, pointing the neck of his beer bottle in Ethan’s direction.  “We only had about three computers in the whole school, so I was actually quite fond of the drama department.”

   He was pretty proud at how much Ethan laughed at the idea of him in tights reciting Shakespeare.

   They were there until closing, and had to be turfed out with the other stragglers as the staff attempted to get home before the clock struck midnight and it actually became Christmas Day.  The blizzard was a nasty shock after several hours in cosy comfort, and even with numerous layers on and a substantial beer jacket, Benji felt the cold cut through him almost immediately. 

   _“Bloody hell,”_ he shouted through the snow flinging itself through the air.  “I think it’s got worse!”

   “This way,” Ethan told him, jerking his thumb down the street.  “My place is only a few minutes away.”

   The wind seemed to die down just a fraction in sync with Benji’s stomach plummeting.  Ethan was inviting him back to his home?   “Oh, no, no,” Benji stammered, realising how monumentally foolish that would be, even in his blurry state.  “That’s okay, I’ll get a taxi, it won’t take long to drive-”

   Ethan blinked at him from under the hood of his jacket, his cheeks pink from the wind.  “It’s nine blocks over,” he said raising his eyebrows as he looked across the slushy road, still sporting a fair amount of snow despite the grit, but no cars that Benji could see.  “And I don’t see any cabs.”

   But Benji knew this was too much, he couldn’t go to Ethan’s _home._   They were friends, they were partners, they’d had a good drink, they’d even gone so far as confessing a few school secrets, including competing for who had the hottest prom date (Benji neglecting to mention he’d secretly wanted to go with the captain of the football team).  But to go _home_ together…there was no way he wouldn’t do something completely humiliating.

   “I can’t,” he stammered, stepping out into the street.  “I’ll just-”

   But of course he found the only patch of ice the gritters had missed, and flailed his arms at the sudden loss of balance, slipping spectacularly and almost crashing to the ground.  Except he didn’t.  Because Ethan was there, and the damn heroic bastard would never let him fall.  “You okay?” he asked, gripping tightly onto his arms, as Benji let himself be held up like a girl dipped mid-dance for a kiss.  He blinked, staring into green eyes, scrambling around for anything to say.

   “Yeah,” he breathed lamely.  “Thanks, sorry I, uh…”

   He expected Ethan to let him go, but he seemed to be waiting for something.  But then something apparently short-circuited in Benji’s brain, because the next thing he knew he had leaned forward…and kissed Ethan right on the mouth.

   It only lasted a second or two before his eyes flew back open as he realised with horror what he was doing, and he snatched his head back, absolutely aghast.  _“Fuck!”_ he hissed.  “Fuck, I’m so sorry, I’m drunk I’m sorry it was an – I – I don’t know what it was, just forget it!”

   But Ethan was still holding him firm, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as the snow and wind whipped through his hair.  He sighed.  “Agent Dunn,” he said patiently.  “I was beginning to think you didn’t want me after all.”

   Shock doused over Benji like a bucket of water.  “What?” he stammered, standing up straight finally on the pavement, but still in Ethan’s grasp.  “What did you – _what?”_

   Ethan chuckled, his eyes on Benji’s lips as he pulled them together in an embrace that did little to keep out the cold, but did everything to set Benji’s insides ablaze.  “For a secret agent,” he teased gently.  “You have a pretty bad poker face.”

   Benji swallowed.  “You know…you knew…” he said, fear and shame creeping up his throat and making it hard to talk.  But then he realised, Ethan was still holding him.  Looking directly at him, an amused eyebrow raised.

   “You’re pretty bad at seduction too.  However did you pass the field exam?”

   Despite the freezing winds cutting through them, Benji found himself relaxing just a fraction on the darkened street.  “You wanted me to kiss you?” he finally blurted out.

   Ethan nodded, and Benji was pretty certain the world fell completely away from him in that moment.  “And I want you to come _home_ with me.  If you’re done making excuses?”

   Benji couldn’t believe this was really happening.  “If that’s what _you_ want,” he said, trying to keep his breathing even and his tongue from getting tied.  “I guess that’s okay?”

   He got his answer in the form of Ethan leaning tentatively forward, and kissing him again.  This time Benji didn’t flinch; in fact, after a couple of heart-stopping seconds, he leaned in too, carefully resting his hands on Ethan’s chest as their lips moved cautiously together. 

   This was a disaster of an idea, he knew that.  Relationships were severely frowned upon at the agency, it was too much of a risk to everyone involved.  But he could have cared less as he melted into the embrace under the snowy deluge.  Of everything that had gone wrong that year, this was finally something that just felt _right._

   “Come on,” Ethan murmured.  “It’s freezing.  Let’s go home.”

   Benji gave in and nodded.  “It’s pretty cold,” he said stupidly, but Ethan smiled fondly at him.

   “I can think of _lots_ of ways to keep warm though,” he assured him.

 

 

End

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, please review! To discover more of my writing, visit www.helenjuliet.com


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